


The Tower Falls

by CassieHughes



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: The Last Battle, elves like to kill orcs, orcs like to kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:37:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3192119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieHughes/pseuds/CassieHughes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘The earth shook as he stood with hefty blade held ready for the killing blow.  Feeling the tremors under his feet, understanding slowly spread through his indolent mind and suddenly he felt the need to be elsewhere. ‘ A snapshot of the last battle from an Orc’s pov. Film based rather than book.<br/>Written for December 2014 Teitho - Endings, where it gained 3rd place behind two awesome stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tower Falls

...

The earth shook as he stood with hefty blade held ready for the killing blow. Feeling the tremors under his feet, understanding slowly spread through his indolent mind and suddenly he felt the need to be elsewhere. 

...

It had all begun so well. Or as well as it ever did, he supposed. Woken from a restless slumber by a sharp prod in the shoulder and the guttural shouted oaths of his captain, he had stumbled to his feet, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes and wandered over to the corner of their gloomy cavern to relieve himself. No one was allowed to leave the confines of their shelter until ordered to do so, to minimize the risk of giving away their position to the enemy. Watching the steaming yellow stream of his urine mingling with those of his fellows his mind wandered to certain of those enemies and what he would like to do to them and he smirked in anticipation. 

Finally moving away from the latrine area, shaking himself as he did so, he joined the shuffling queue waiting for their daily, meagre rations, his stomach grumbling loudly in protest at the lack of a decent meal, in what felt like an age. When he finally reached the front and was handed his allotted bowl of gruel he growled in frustration before turning away. It was not worth complaining. All that was likely to get him would be a fist in the ribs, so he swallowed his anger and moved quickly to a quiet corner, eager to consume the tasteless food before someone made an attempt to wrest it from him. Sure enough, it was not long before an argument broke out within a group on the opposite side of the cave and fists began to fly. Covetously he huddled over his dish and backed into the corner watching as others began to join the fray turning it into a full blown melee, with curses and grunts loud enough to waken the dead.

Eventually, two captains waded in and began knocking heads together until everything was once again calm, or as calm as it ever got with such a volatile group, all bred for the kill and baying for blood.

...

Swaying as the earth moved he lowered his arm, forgetting the enemy he had been ready to split open only moments before and turned slowly, disbelief writ large upon his gnarled features. He never noticed that everyone else upon the killing field had also paused, the ring of steel upon steel dying away into silence as understanding came and with it either dawning jubilation, or abject fear. A warm rush of fluid ran down his leg, underlining his inner feelings upon the matter but it went disregarded as he watched, in horror, the great tower, held to be indestructible, crumble and fall.

...

Finally, after much pushing and shoving and many obscene curses, the unruly band had been formed into lines and marched out of the cave and off into the night. He had no idea where they were going, underlings such as he never did, just that they were at last off to find some work for their keen edged weapons.

As they had marched he had contemplated his master and the enemy they would be facing. The master he had never seen meant little. He had been told that he owed him his life but was unsure how this could be, so viewed the tale with indifference. His enemy, however, he had seen and he hated them with a passion verging upon madness. Their inner light taunted his darkness as if to say, 'you could have had this', and their fair features only went to highlight his own twisted image.

That was not the worst part though, the worst part was their eagerness to kill. To annihilate his kind from the face of the world as if they did not deserve to live. True, his own kind were no less eager but this was because they had no other choice. Kill or be killed, this is what the master said. Them or you. This is what you were bred for. So, he did what he was told to survive and up until now, had made a very good job of it.

Trudging on he had dozed on his feet, as was his want. Their numbers so many that he felt safe in the knowledge that someone would raise the alarm if necessary and that, anyway, such a company as they would send any of their puny enemies running and crying back to their mothers. Through the night they had continued, until at long last the captains called a halt and he blinked, blearily, trying to make out where they had been brought, then blinked again in open jawed amazement.

The tower, they had been recalled to the place of his birth and were now standing before the master’s great tower and as his eyes had swept the scene, he had laughed aloud with malevolent glee. Finally those haughty elves and stupid men would see just what they were up against and would tremble at the sight.

The whole army was arrayed, in rank upon rank, upon rank of his kin along with all those who had had the foresight to ally themselves with the undoubted victor of this final encounter. A force of which the like had never before been seen on all of Arda. Now they would see. These elves and men. Now they would understand how futile their resistance had been. Now they would finally succumb and he would glut himself upon their blood and their bodies. He had stood, a twisted grin upon his grotesque face and waited with anticipation for the command to begin.

...

A rumble, louder than any thunder he had ever heard before, reverberated throughout his body as he stood, mesmerized, and watched the last of the stone blocks crash to the ground, to be swallowed up in a great spume of ash and smoke. Then he began to run, his weapon falling from his loosened grip, to lay disregarded and trampled under the myriad of feet also trying to escape their coming doom. Wails and screams once more rent the air, as friend and foe alike were crushed under the stampede, only to be swallowed up as the earth itself disappeared from beneath them, sending them down to darkest oblivion.

He ran with neither thought nor care as to where he went, just to escape from the maelstrom that his certainty had become. Gnarled legs pumping as hard and as fast as they could, arms flailing to thrust any obstacle he met, be it living or dead, out of his way. Survival was all there was now and he had proven in the past that if there was one thing he was good at, it was surviving. His whole world was collapsing around him but he would not give in to despair, it was not in his nature.

A flash of light within the dust filled air before him caught his eye and as he realized what it was a slow, malevolent smile spread across his grime covered features. Long, golden hair, whipped around a faintly glowing, pale face, by the wind.

Changing his trajectory slightly he gathered pace and moved towards what had just become his prey. Although his weapon was lost, far behind, he was far from unarmed and he flexed lethal, clawed fingers in eager anticipation. All may be ending. His master may be lost, but he was still alive and as long as he lived, he would continue the fight against the creatures he could not help but abhor.

With a guttural snarl he threw himself at the elf, hitting him square on in the chest, his heavier body easily bowling the other off his feet and sweeping them both into a rolling tumble as he latched powerful fingers around the elf’s slender neck. Coming to rest atop the fragile looking creature he quickly began to squeeze as the elf bucked beneath him, clawing at the constricting hold with deceptively strong fingers. Blue eyes wide with panic and hatred.

As he felt the elf begin to weaken beneath him he tipped his head back, jubilant laughter spilling from his open maw, the thrill of the kill taking over completely, rendering him unaware of the danger behind him until it was too late.

A sudden thud against his back threw him off balance, loosening his grip upon the elf enough to allow a sharp intake of much needed air. Shaking his head in confusion as pain began to insinuate itself into his mind another blow knocked him sideways and before he knew what had happened he was lying upon the ground whilst his erstwhile prey crawled, gasping out of reach. Bile rose in his throat as the pain increased and the gruel he had last eaten returned in force as darkness stole into his vision, threatening to claim it completely. He knew something was terribly wrong but could not seem to get his mind to work properly and suddenly felt too tired to care. Oblivion called to him and he could no longer resist, his senses shutting down one by one as he finally gave in to death’s demanding pull until all that was left was the sound of his own laboured breathing gradually slowing and a gruff voice uttering a sentence that seemed to make no sense at all to his befuddled brain.

“64 Laddie, 64. I win again.”


End file.
